


Run

by LallaChan



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Flash Fiction, Friendship, Gen, Run Watson, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 16:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LallaChan/pseuds/LallaChan
Summary: Watson will not stop, not when he knows Holmes is in danger.





	Run

His legs are on fire, his lungs puffing breath like a locomotive, pumping his body through with oxygen. He’s gasping, breath burning cold down his throat - it’s freezing, the forest covered in a cold sheet of ice making the footing wet and thick. His shoes and socks are soaked through.

 

But Watson will not stop, not when he knows Holmes is in danger.

 

They’d left him for dead. The crack of the revolver over his head enough to make his teeth shake, the tumble down the side of the hill and into the ravine enough to almost knock him out cold. He managed to stay conscious, but had the savvy to keep still, listening as they spoke and yelled above him, ready to kill Holmes where he stood.

 

But they didn’t, they wanted a more poetic death, something more relevant, something more dramatic. So they decided to take him to the chapel, where the whole sordid affair started. He counted his lucky stars and took off like the devil, his sense of direction keen and trustworthy from years of traversing a desert as flat as a plate.

 

Now his head is pounding, his hands shaking, one gripping a gun and the other held close to his body as he stumbles over the terrain - the cut dripping flecks of bright red onto the white snow.

 

Breaking through the trees he can see the chapel, pale in the moonlight. He runs, keeps going, keeps pressing, pushing past the discomfort of hip and shoulder each giving good reasons for him to rest. The snow white valley feels longer than it was this morning, he stumbles again, slipping in the cold snow, presses up and keeps going, hands slick on the revolver’s grip.

 

The door hangs open, skew and broken, and he comes to a stand in the mouth of the chapel, seeing only the back of a man pointing a gun at someone kneeling. He recognises the voice, doesn’t think, just aims and fires.

 

The head explodes, sending blood and brain matter every which way. The two grunts spin, eyes wide, but Watson has a quick and steady hand, and takes both out before they can rightly react. They collapse, gasping around wounds which will cripple at the very least.

 

Startled eyes turn to meet his, and it takes Holmes only a glance to let the worried and terrified expression fade, leaving only the happy smile he knows will calm his Watson. It does. Two steps in Watson collapses against a dilapidated church bench.

 

He smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> My friend gave me a prompt last night 'Run', and this was the result.
> 
> I feel like my fics keep getting shorter.


End file.
